chapter twenty: xx. fake

“Thank you,” I said as I handed the money over to the taxi driver and left the taxi.

It was almost Christmas, and there was still no snow on the ground. It had snowed a couple of times, but it had always melted quickly. In Toronto… well, not even. Sometimes we’d have green Christmases, which were always quite dull. Besides, you shouldn’t live while constantly comparing. It wasn’t good. Just love the present.

Cold… the feeling of having numb and frozen arms and legs, feet, face, ears, the only warm things being your insides and your fingers which you would dig deep into the pockets of your jacket. It’d been awhile, and I embraced it. The best part of being cold was when you once again met warmth and felt your body part by body part melt.

I leaned against the cold stone wall, blowing out air just to see how big of a white puff I could make, breathing in just to feel the cold, crisp air against my warm mouth. I loved the feeling of drinking in the cold air-as long as I was in a place with few to no people around… there was bound to be smokers if there were people, and that would make that sensation worse. By far.

After I felt that I had been in the cold long enough, I turned to the gate and rang the bell.

“Who is it?”

I waved at the camera, grinning at the familiar voice.

“Well well well… you look cold. Come in.”

The gate door buzzed as it unlocked and I opened it, stepping inside. I closed it behind me and jogged towards the main door. I knocked on the door and it opened, his housekeeper standing there.

“Oh if it isn’t Jooeun! It’s been so long! You’ve grown so much!” he gushed.

I gave a slight bow to her. “You look like you haven’t aged a day, Jin ahjumma,” I said, grinning at him.

“He’s on his floor,” he said, smiling kindly (and promptly ignoring my Jin ahjumma comment. He’d already gotten too used to it and didn’t even care anymore). “Are you hungry? Do you want some—”

“Cookies, like usual? Of course! Your cookies are the best, ahjumma! I’ll be upstairs now.”

I skipped up the stairs. Now, let me tell you about the strange layout of the house. The house was huge (it was practically a mansion) and had four floors. The main floor, the negative floor (which was what we called the basement-because it really did not look or seem like a basement at all), the guest floor (for when his parents or anyone else came to visit-there were like eight guest rooms with two twin sized beds each) and his floor (which happened to be the highest floor). He had one whole floor to himself, the lucky bastard. And… there were no rooms on his floor, not really. He’d had them knock all the walls down (though of course there were supports) and just added curtains (with connected curtain stand things so that you could slide the curtains anywhere) so that he could resize the rooms whenever he wanted. He was a weird person, my Yoongi.

“I’M HOME!” I hollered as I got to the top floor.

“It’s not your home, per se.”

I turned to the voice, grinning. “Ah, Su oppa! I missed you! Did you miss me?”

He scowled at me. “Do you think I missed you, brat?”

Meet my brother’s best friend, Min Yoongi. Also known as Suga… the short form of ‘shooting guard’—he’d gone through a basketball phase. I guess he still was in the basketball phase.

The floor had changed since I’d last been here-before school started. The curtains were now black, which was a contrast to the all white walls and floor. And of course, the furniture was an array of colours. He was currently sitting in his composing zone, headphones around his neck, papers, his piano keyboard, computer, and composing equipment all around him. My face lit up, and I hopped over to him, looking at his papers and recognizing my brother’s writing.

“So oppa dropped by? I half expected him not to tell you that he was in Korea at all… are you guys working on a new song?”

As our band had broken apart, the two of them had stayed together and occasionally wrote and recorded songs together. Yoongi had a neat little recording room and system at the corner of his floor; the only proper room on the whole floor. Of course, he had another one back in Canada, which they used more. They used those rooms and made mixtapes, and also released their songs on Soundcloud. Surprisingly, they had quite a fanbase. Well… though I hated to admit it, they were good. My brother had a knack for rapping, making cyphers. Yoongi was an amazing producer, and also a great rapper. They made quite the duo. They would never admit it, but I had a feeling they both liked each other. My brother obviously had a thing for him. They were both biual.

You would never imagine SUGA of BTS (they never changed the name… and apparently it now stood for But They Stopped (as in everyone in our band stopped and left except for the two) but no one really knew that except for a few people. Most people thought it just stood for Behind The Scenes) lived in a fancy mansion like this. Or that Rap Monster of BTS was going to a simple college because really, he was broke. It was funny, seeing how different the two were yet how close they were as friends.

“Yeah, a new song. Now shut up, I’m trying to think.”

“You can use my beautiful face as inspiration,” I said grinning; face quickly falling to his disgusted expression. “No but really, oppa. I need to vent.”

“Do you really think I give a sh*t?” He gave me his I don’t give a sh*t face.

“Yoongi, be nice!” Sukjin scolded, with a plate of cookies in one hand and a cup of milk in the other.

“But Sukjin!” Yoongi whined. “Jooeun is bothering my composing process! I’m trying to think of lyrics for this really amazing beat, and she’s not helping!”

“But Jin ahjumma! You know that I only come here when I need to vent, because Su oppa’s a good listener!” Yoongi coughed, mumbling a you’re funny. “I have something on my mind, and who knows, maybe my rant will help him write his lyrics, like it did with your most successful song.”

Yoongi and I glared at each other, and Sukjin laughed. “The two of you need to stop bickering so much. I’ve watched the two of you grow up, and you’re always arguing! You’re like an old married couple!”

“Except for the fact that we hate each other,” we both muttered.

“Look, I’m only here for like twenty minutes. Just listen to me while we eat cookies at least, and if you find my rant interesting than I’ll keep going. Otherwise, I’ll stop. I promise,” I negotiated, already reaching for the plate of cookies.

Yoongi sighed, turning away from his desk and composing area, rolling his chair over to where I was now sitting, as Seokjin silently left the scene.

“Okay, so where do I start?” I asked, mouth already full of cookie. I thought, chewing.

“At this rate you’ll have told me nothing and then we’ll be done,” Yoongi muttered.

I glared at him, before swallowing quickly and continuing. “So basically, there are these twelve guys.”

Yoongi spat out his cookie, coughing. “You’re telling me your BOY TROUBLES? No ing way. Wait-boys are interested in you? Don’t even lie.”

“LET ME ACTUALLY FINISH! Anyway. There are these twelve guys at my school. They’re all really close friends from a long time ago. Anyway, at the school I’m going to, they have this tradition. Every year, they pick a girl, and try to get her to like one of them by the end of the year. Whoever she’s in love with by that last day is the winner, and he gets to be called hyung by the other eleven. So the hyungs are desperate not to call someone younger than them hyung, the maknaes are desperate to have their hyungs call them hyung, and the middles want both.” I took another bite of my cookie.

“And basically, they chose you this year?” Yoongi guessed.

“As expected, my smart Yoongi oppa!” I clapped my hands for him, and he rolled his eyes.

“So that’s it?” asked Yoongi.

“No, let me continue!” I said, swallowing the cookie that was in my mouth. “And the thing is… well… a lot has happened this year. I was in a car accident with Jongdae oppa,” I swallowed, paling at the memory.

“WAIT WHAT?! Hold up, you were in a car accident? How? When? Are you okay?”

I smiled. Yoongi’s true soft self came out when he was worried. He acted all harsh, mean, and y, but inside, he was a queen. Well… outside, he was a queen too. But what I’m trying to say is that inside, he was real soft.

“It was a week into school. It was raining and we were running and jaywalking I guess and the car tried to stop but the tires slipped because of the rain. Needless to say, I’m okay, completely healed, while Jongdae oppa’s still under rehabilitation. I mean, he can walk and stand and all that, but he can’t run yet. Or dance. Anyway, as I was saying, a lot has happened this year. I’ve gotten really close with them, and honestly? I think I do like them, and not just one… I think I like all of them and that’s a problem. Especially since sometimes I doubt if the them they’re showing me isn’t real and just for show because they want me to fall for them. Sometimes I wonder if everything is an act for the competition and if our friendship is even real. Which makes me wonder if my feelings for them are meaningless and for fake people.”

Yoongi was silent, munching on his cookie. Then, he spoke. “Babo.”

“W-what?” I sputtered. “I give you that whole speech and that’s all you have to say?”

“You’re a babo. That’s it. Need I translate for you? Idiot. Baka. I mean, honestly, why do you doubt your judgement? If you feel that they are being real, they are being real. If not, they’re not being real. But sometimes I wonder if any of us are even real? I mean, depending on the people you are around, your personality changes. And that’s not because you’re being fake to some people and real to others, it’s just because different people uncover different parts of you. As for your feelings? Your feelings aren’t meaningless. Even if it is for them being fake, it isn’t meaningless. No less than your thoughts and opinions being meaningless. You play point guard, I play shooting guard. We have different positions in the game. Does that make either meaningless? No. Without one or the other, the game’s flow would be ruined. And just like that, your feelings aren’t meaningless. Better have some feelings than none, right? And really, no one can keep acting or faking for so long. Eventually they get annoyed by babos like you, and they’ll show their real selves. None of them have shown their real selves? That’s because they’ve been showing their real selves all this time. Simple as that.”

I smiled gratefully. “See? This is why I come to you. You’re the best, oppa.”

He scoffed. “Obviously.” Then, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “But hey, you did give me inspiration. Our new song now has a title, and I feel the lyrics flowing.”

“What is it?”

“Fake.”

A/N: So how'd you like Yoongi's appearance?? (I personally really really love his character in my story... and in real life as well, of course)

We saw some philosphical thoughts of him that still don't really make sense to myself... and Jin ahjumma, lmaooo

We'll see what happens next chapter... hehe

Anyway hope you liked this chapter~~

~Jinny Out